


[gore, hard vore] Throw Me A Bone

by wolfbunny



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Broken Bones, Dismemberment, Gen, Hard vore, Implied Noncon, Magic Blood, Organs, Torture, Underfell Sans, Vore, all the worst stuff i could think of, bad dogs, ecto-flesh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 23:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11724711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfbunny/pseuds/wolfbunny
Summary: Red (UF Sans) shows Sans (UT Sans) a memorable evening.





	[gore, hard vore] Throw Me A Bone

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the gore category of https://undertailfanficcontest.tumblr.com so I tried to cram all my goriest ideas in :3
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> [[on tumblr](http://nom-the-skel.tumblr.com/post/163870692625/gore-hard-vore-throw-me-a-bone)]

  
There was no sound in the video. Sans sat naked on a gurney, tired and resigned. His eyes followed someone off-screen. They must have been a fair distance away, as the camera angle was wide.  
  
A disembodied hand swooped in and plucked Sans’s soul from his chest, another following with a syringe of glowing green substance, which it injected into the soul. Sans flinched. The hands returned his soul and retreated.  
  
Nothing happened for a few seconds. Then Sans grasped at his sternum and slid off the gurney. Static filled the screen intermittently, leaving glimpses of Sans writhing on the floor, and when it cleared there was a creature in his place, large, quadrupedal, with a long canine skull, crowned with thick spikes.  
  
“whoa,” said Red to himself. The tape stopped, and he ejected it, replacing it with the next one.  
  
***  
  
“Hello, Red! Who are your friends?”  
  
“i brought some of the dogs with me from my universe. they wanted to check this one out, you know? anyway, i was hopin’ you could help us with something.”  
  
“Of course! The Great Papyrus is always happy to help interdimensional visitors!”  
  
“actually, it’s kind of a surprise. mind putting on this blindfold?”  
  
“Nyeheheh! You will find it difficult to surprise the Great Papyrus!”  
  
But Papyrus was surprised.  
  
***  
  
Sans tilted his skull back to look at the opposite wall, looking at the opposite wall, not the ecto-anatomy he’d summoned under duress, now purple from the mingling of his magic and Red’s, pretending that this wasn’t happening. Tears dripped down his temples and he couldn’t stop them. This would be a great time for a reset.  
  
He was able to ignore Red handling his soul—he was actually being gentle with it—until something suddenly jabbed him in the soul. He didn’t want to know what. Maybe it would dust him and he wouldn’t have to live this timeline any more.  
  
But after the initial jab, whatever it was was actually … soothing. He forced himself to look. Red was stepping back to admire his handiwork—Sans’s soul floated off to the side, out of the way, attached to an IV of something glowing bright green.  
  
Healing magic.  
  
Sans felt a sinking sensation where his soul ought to be. With this set-up, he could probably survive a lot of things that would normally dust him. No doubt that was exactly why Red had prepared it.  
  
And here he’d thought the ordeal was almost over.  
  
“what are you gonna do?”  
  
“relax, sans. it’s just a precaution. for now.”  
  
None of this reassured Sans in the slightest.  
  
“okay, show me a belly.”  
  
“i can’t. maybe if you turn down the magic jammer.”  
  
“if you can make that”—he nodded at Sans’s pelvis—“you oughta be able to make the rest. you studied anatomy, right?”  
  
“i wasn’t a biologist or nothin’,” protested Sans.  
  
“don’t matter, you know the basics. or do you think the dogs deserve another snack?”  
  
“no. no!” Sans tried to sit up, but the restraints on his arms and cervical vertebrae held him flat to the table. “you got what you wanted, didn’t you? let him go!”  
  
“we’re just getting started, sweetheart. now show me what you can do.”  
  
Sans stared over his shoulder into the larger room next door, intended to allow people to observe whatever experiments went on out there from the safety of this smaller room. They had once been separated by a window taking up most of the wall, but now only a few shards of glass remained. It was dusty and moldering with long disuse, but between Red and the dogs they had rigged up something to suspend Papyrus from the ceiling, with the controls in here with Red to raise or lower him at will. Most of the dogs were gathered below Papyrus, periodically jumping and snapping at his remaining foot. One of them was contentedly chewing on something.  
  
“why are you doing this?”  
  
“hey, i’m just trying to make this a memorable occasion.”  
  
“… you couldn’t just get me mettaton’s autograph or somethin’?”  
  
“come on, sans. i know about the resets. even if i kill you, the human comes along and you’ll just be good as new and barely even remember it happened.”  
  
“but why do you wanna—”  
  
“always assumin’ it works the same for you as for me. who knows? i thought we were just different versions of the same monster, but it turns out you’re less of a monster and more of a monstrosity.”  
  
“whaddaya mean—”  
  
“but if you’re anything like me, even if you can’t really remember the other timelines, dying has a way of leaving a pretty strong impression. how many times have you died? nah, i don’t expect ya to answer. how many different ways do you really remember? some of ‘em might o’ been pretty horrific. maybe your bro died in front of ya and you attacked the human and got yourself dusted.”  
  
Sans strained to sit up. “papyrus—”  
  
“relax, i’m not gonna let him get dusted. or if i was, i wouldn’t do it yet. that would overshadow all the rest of the proceedin’s.”  
  
Sans stopped himself from looking at Papyrus. It made the dogs show off for his benefit when he did. He knew what he would see—the blindfold soaked through with tears that had nothing to do with the magic still dripping from Papyrus’s tibia and fibula. Papyrus would want Sans to leave him and save himself. He’d shouted as much several times when he’d first heard Sans’s voice. But he had to know that their attack magic was disabled—surely he’d attempted to free himself before Sans had been brought here, and suffered the magical backlash.  
  
Not that Sans would ever sacrifice his brother. He could only hope that Red would let Papyrus go when he was finally done with Sans. But it was a very slim hope.  
  
“tick-tock, sans. you wanna get this over with before the dogs’ lunch break, right?”  
  
“okay, okay, i’ll do it, hang on. but if i cooperate, you gotta let papyrus go, unharmed.”  
  
“i dunno if you noticed but he’s already a little harmed.”  
  
“i mean no further harm.” Sans didn’t dare show annoyance at Red’s pedantry.  
  
“no deal. we already have a deal, which is i don’t touch that lever so long as you’re cooperatin’, and you ain’t in any position to modify the deal.”  
  
Silence stretched into seconds. Red’s hand crept toward the lever.  
  
“no, wait! i’ll do it, sorry, i can do it.”  
  
Sans took a couple breaths, forcing himself to relax enough to conjure more ecto-flesh, a translucent blue expanse that spread convex across the space between his pelvis and ribs.  
  
Red stroked it, pressing his phalanges into the pliant surface. “i don’t see any organs.”  
  
“you wanted organs?”  
  
“what did ya think i was talkin’ about anatomy for?”  
  
Sans didn’t protest that just skin took plenty of anatomical knowledge. “okay, give me a minute here.”  
  
Sans focused on visualizing what he wanted to materialize, but he was suddenly distracted by the question of why. What was Red going to do when he’d manifested them satisfactorily? The precaution of the healing IV—  
  
“while we’re young, sans.” Red played his distal phalanges across the lever that controlled Papyrus.  
  
“sorry—just a sec.” Sans couldn’t afford to think about why or what was going to happen if he did this. He knew what was going to happen if he didn’t. Fortunately humanoid anatomy came naturally to a humanoid skeleton, even if most of it was purely ornamental.  
  
“that’s better.” Red ran both hands over it. Sans couldn’t see much from this angle, his ribs blocking the view, but he knew what was there—liver, stomach, intestines, et cetera. Red’s gaze traveled up to Sans’s rib cage. “no lungs?”  
  
“did you want lungs? i can do lungs.”  
  
“no, this is great.” Red leaned over and ran his tongue across the vertical length of Sans’s belly. It tickled horribly and Sans squirmed, resisting the urge to kick him away. He had a vague memory of doing this with someone—Tori or Grillby—in some other timeline—Tori? Who was Tori?  
  
Then Red bit into him. Sans yelped more from shock than from pain, though it certainly did hurt.  
  
“stars above, red, what are you doing?” Sans strained to get a better view.  
  
Red bit down harder, sharp teeth digging deeper into the ecto-flesh, and Sans didn’t hold back a groan of pain. He didn’t want Papyrus to hear this, on the one hand, but on the other hand, if Red was intent on making him suffer, the best chance for Papyrus’s salvation was if Red was satisfied with his suffering.  
  
Red pulled away, ripping a chunk out of the ecto-flesh, and Sans could only gasp, too distracted to try to put on a better show. Shocked silent, he met Red’s gaze as the other monster grinned up at him, giving him a view of the blue magic smeared across his teeth and jaws.  
  
Red parted his teeth and let his tongue loll out grotesquely. Where—what had happened to the chunk he’d bitten off? Had he swallowed it? Did it de-manifest when it was separated? Sans couldn’t help but wonder; it was the only coherent thought he could produce at the moment.  
  
He jerked against his restraints as Red dove back in. Having a foreign object intrude into his ecto-body was bad enough when the organs were designed for it. Even if he hadn’t manifested any flesh, he wouldn’t have wanted Red invading his personal space like this. And the teeth—stars curse those pointy teeth everyone from Red’s universe seemed to have—  
  
Red lifted his head again and Sans relaxed just a little, expecting a few seconds’ respite. Something was draped over Red’s lower jaw—he hadn’t bitten down so hard this time. Red paused long enough for Sans to realize that it was a mouthful of his small intestine. “ngh,” Sans grunted through clenched teeth, nauseated. Red slurped up the mouthful, and kept slurping, pulling more of the length of the organ out of depths of Sans’s pseudo-body. Sans let his eyelights roll back toward the wall again; he could still feel Red sucking him up like a forkful of spaghetti, periodically biting down so he could stop for a second without dropping it.  
  
“you still awake there, pal?”  
  
Sans might have passed out for a minute. He didn’t remember Red moving to the side of the examination table, but here he was, leaning over him, jaws dripping with translucent blue gore. Sans jumped, trying to distance himself, but the restraints wouldn’t let him budge an inch.  
  
“yeah, i’m awake.”  
  
“this is all for your benefit, so we don’t want ya driftin’ off.”  
  
“right… tell me again though, why are we doing this?”  
  
“okay, i’ll tell ya.”  
  
Sans felt like there was some reason he didn’t want to waste time, but he couldn’t remember. At least if Red was talking he wasn’t biting or …  
  
“you remember the other humans that fell into the underground, right?”  
  
Sans waited for him to go on, then realized he must want an actual answer. “uh-huh …”  
  
“i dunno how closely you were involved. apparently they all had different color souls. the only one i saw was green.”  
  
Sans tensed up at the mention of the color.  
  
“o’ course, in my world, it’s pretty rough; none o’ the humans made it very far.”  
  
Red stopped, pensively wiping some of Sans’s guts onto his sleeve.  
  
“i never even asked his name,” Red continued eventually. “did you know his name?”  
  
“whose name?”  
  
“the kid with the green soul!” Red slammed his fist on the table next to Sans’s skull, making him jerk against the restraints involuntarily.  
  
“oh—oh.” Of course. Red knew. That was what this was about. “n-no, i didn’t catch his name …”  
  
“seems like it’d be only polite to know his name first. i know your name, sans.” He leaned in to lick up a tear Sans hadn’t realized he’d cried, leaving his face wetter than it had been. His tongue was stained purple. Sans didn’t think about it.  
  
“red, i—it’s not like i had a choice in the matter.” Sans kept his voice low and calm. He hoped Papyrus wasn’t listening—Papyrus! He was here too! Was he still okay?  
  
“maybe this goody-two-shoes world ain’t really all it’s cracked up to be. i thought in a world like this where everyone’s always … i thought …”  
  
“red—none of the humans surv—” Sans broke off with a scream as Red grasped his arm and yanked it upward, hard. The ulna cracked where it was fixed to the table. Red yanked again and it broke entirely, the radius pulling free at the elbow but remaining whole.  
  
“that’s funny. i thought you’d bleed blue.” Red’s words only distantly penetrated Sans’s consciousness as he gasped in pain, vision blurring. There was motion, and a scuffle, and Sans focused enough to see Red tasting the bleeding end of the ulna. The radius, and hand bones, he’d thrown to the dogs. “tastes different, too,” red observed.  
  
Stars curse that healing IV.  
  
But at least if the dogs were eating him they weren’t eating Papyrus. Maybe they’d be full when they were done with him. He refused to think that they would rip Papyrus apart for fun anyway. He couldn’t make out Papyrus’s form right now through the tears, but he thought he heard his voice above the growling of the dogs playing tug-of-war with his arm.  
  
He tried to stay optimistic, but when he felt Red’s phalanges on his tibia, dread shot through him. “red, please, red, i didn’t—”  
  
“didn’t what? are you gonna tell me you didn’t eat him?”  
  
Sans fell silent, except for sniffling.  
  
“because i saw the tape.”  
  
There was a tape? Sans had thought all the evidence of those experiments had been destroyed along with other memories of Gaster. He should have looked harder, but he didn’t really want to remember it himself.  
  
Red gripped his tibia more firmly, and Sans kicked it free.  
  
“sans. are you gonna hold still, or am i gonna pull this lever?”  
  
“s-sorry! i’ll hold still.”  
  
Red traced his phalanges from the torn and ripped edge of Sans’s ecto-flesh down his femur to regain his hold on the tibia.  
  
“okay. count of three.” Red tensed as he counted. “one…two…three!” He laughed as Sans jumped involuntarily. He hadn’t done anything.  
  
The anticipation was probably worse than—no, no it wasn’t. He thought he might black out, but the haze of pain cleared in time for him to see Red pulling the tibia apart from the fibula, red magic dripping from the detached ends. He tossed the larger bone to the dogs.  
  
Sans’s vision swum as Red placed the fibula between his teeth, pulling down at the other end as he bit off a piece. He chewed on it with some distaste, casually stepping closer to Sans’s face again.  
  
“i’m not really cut out for cannibalism,” he remarked. “but i want you to go through the same thing he did. bet you’ve never been eaten before, huh?”  
  
He was probably right. Something like that—this—would have made an impression. Even if Sans had forgotten about it, this would have brought it back to him.  
  
Red contemplated the broken end of the fibula, still oozing sluggishly, and then tossed it to the dogs as well, causing a commotion of yips and growls as those who didn’t have anything to chew on yet fought over the meager bone.  
  
“hey, i got an idea.” Red walked around behind Sans to the other side of the room, where cabinets covered the wall. Sans followed as best he could with his eyelights, still unable to move his upper body thanks to the restraints.  
  
“hope this is still sharp.” The whir of the saw was enough to set Sans’s soul pounding (even if it was over by the IV). He remembered when Gaster had invented that thing. But he’d been too irreplaceable a specimen to ever find himself on the business end of it.  
  
Sans looked away, but he remembered the tool clearly. It was a bit like a miniature chainsaw with a more subdued aesthetic, something that wouldn’t be out of place in a doctor’s office, useful for amputating limbs that were mangled beyond repair. But monsters could be healed with magic no matter how badly mangled they were, so its only real conceivable benign use might have been to free a monster with a limb trapped in a rock slide. That was not what Gaster had used it for.  
  
The sound stopped. “okay, hold still,” warned Red. Sans could feel the blade rest against his femur, the one that was still bleeding onto the table, magic that should have flowed into the lower bones robbed of its destination.  
  
There was nothing Sans wouldn’t do to get that blade away from his leg. Except for sacrificing his brother. The dogs sounded content with the bones they had. That was a good sign. His remaining bones clattered against the table as he shivered.  
  
Red started the saw and sliced easily through the femur, holding up the severed end. He pulled off the patella, placed it on his tongue, and swallowed it. “that’s a good size,” he said. The knobby end of the femur elicited excited barking from the dogs when he tossed it their way.  
  
Sans was far past asking Red what he meant by that. Red started the blade again. Sans whimpered and looked away again, though he couldn’t help but tense up when he felt the bite of the saw, in the same femur as before. Was Red going to carve him into little pieces? How much of the process would the IV keep him alive for?  
  
“you awake there, sweetheart?”  
  
Sans could barely move his skull, but tilting it down to look at Red was almost more effort than he could manage. Red was holding a neat little ring of bone in red-stained phalanges—Should it be hollow like that? Perhaps he’d sucked out the marrow already. But more importantly, he could see beyond him to Papyrus, still bound up and hanging from the ceiling, struggling occasionally—of course he wouldn’t give up on freeing himself, not Papyrus. Sans hoped he couldn’t hear anything above the dogs, hoped he hadn’t figured out what the shrill whir of the saw actually was.  
  
Red tossed the circle of bone into his mouth. “it’s not so bad if i cut you into bite-size pieces. pay attention, now.” He positioned the saw for the next slice of femur, then hesitated. “what’s this?” It didn’t sound like a taunt; Red was honestly surprised by something. Sans couldn’t see what, unable to lift his skull from the table. Red raised his hand into Sans’s field of vision, dripping with red, but also—something green—  
  
Sans was far too distracted by the way the restraints were cutting into him to worry about it. They had been tight before, but now he was sure they would cut through his cervical vertebrae at any second. The tightness, the pain would have had him screaming except that his breath was cut off as well, somehow. At least it would be over, just more shards of memory to torment another version of himself in another timeline. Not even the soul IV would let him survive beheading—he hoped.  
  
The table shrank away, and the pain from the restraints was finally gone. Was this what it was like to go to dust? Strange, the pain in his arm and leg was still there. And what was that animalistic roaring?  
  
It was him. Suddenly he placed the sensations in his memory. It had been a long time. He’d refused to feed on another human soul, so he hadn’t transformed since he’d exhausted whatever magical energy he’d gotten from the first one.  
  
He looked around the suddenly cramped room, getting his bearings. He was free, and even if he couldn’t use attack magic, he could fight those dogs and save Papyrus. He took a step toward the larger room and stumbled, his body expecting to have two more legs at its disposal for tasks like walking. His ribs crashed to the floor, remaining legs tangling. At least the abused and tattered ecto-flesh had disappeared in the transformation.  
  
Fallen, he found himself eye-to-eye with Red. He was no threat at maybe a third of Sans’s height and without any attack magic himself. The little skeleton stumbled backward, his eyelights minuscule pinpricks of shock. He ran into the lever. There was a startled NYEH from the other room. The dogs yipped with excitement.  
  
Sans surged to his remaining feet, grabbed Red between his jaws and bit down as hard as he could, barely sparing a thought for the dust that cascaded down onto his collarbone as he propelled himself into the other room, where the dogs were already worrying at Papyrus where he lay on the floor, legs sprawled but arms still bound tight. He fully intended to pounce on the dogs and crush them under his claws, but they skittered out of the way, and, perhaps intimidated by what short work he’d made of Red, escaped through a door much too small for Sans to follow them through. Green light flaring from one eye, Sans slammed his front foot onto the floor just short of the last dog, losing his balance, and toppled over.  
  
His skull hit the floor and scattered his thoughts. When he was able to assess his surroundings again, he found himself lying on his side, Papyrus almost cradled between his foreleg and skull, lying in the puddle of magic that had dripped from his severed ankle. Sans’s injured limbs had left smears and spatters of red and green magic along the floor, showing his path.  
  
Papyrus wasn’t moving. Was he okay? Sans couldn’t speak in this form to ask him, or at least get him to respond and show he was conscious. In a stroke of good fortune, the dogs’ chewing and tugging at Papyrus’s bindings had weakened them. Sans carefully pulled on them with one sharp claw. The ropes gave, but not without eliciting a small NYEH of discomfort. Once Papyrus’s arms were free, Sans let his foreleg drop. He could only lie there and pant with exhaustion. Angling his skull so that he could see Papyrus from one eye took all of his energy.  
  
Papyrus hesitantly undid his blindfold, taking in his surroundings, but mostly the giant skeletal beast lying next to him, smeared with dust and traces of magic.  
  
“SANS…?” he said. Sans didn’t know if he’d recognized him, or if he was hoping to find his brother still alive in the other room.  
  
The green magic was exhausted. Sans’s eyelights extinguished and he couldn’t see Papyrus’s reaction as the great beast collapsed to dust.  
  
***  
  
“papyrus!” Sans woke up, soul pounding. He was sprawled on his mattress in his room … Of course he was. Where else would he be? But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something awful had happened, something to avoid at all costs, and it involved Papyrus. He couldn’t go back to sleep without making sure it was just a feeling.  
  
When he opened the door he could hear faint humming coming from the kitchen. That set his soul at ease. He should probably go back to bed, not worry his brother by behaving so unusually as to get up this early, but he still wanted to see with his own eyes that Papyrus was okay. He made his way to the kitchen.  
  
Papyrus was making oatmeal for himself before starting his usual breakfast spaghetti. Sans suppressed the urge to run over and hug him; that would definitely alert him that something was wrong. And nothing was wrong.  
  
“SANS! What are you doing up so early? I haven’t even finished making breakfast!!” Papyrus studied him for a moment. “Is something the matter?”  
  
“no, paps, everything’s fine. i just woke up early so i thought i’d come down. maybe i can help you with breakfast today, huh?”  
  
“Sans, you know my spaghetti is a demanding culinary art that a pedestrian chef, no matter how competent, could not hope to comprehend! Why don’t you just sit down and I’ll bring you some when it’s ready?”  
  
“okay, bro, but don’t hurry on my account. finish your oatmeal first.”  
  
“Very well!” Papyrus agreed, and picked up the bowl to carry it to the table to eat like a civilized monster. He almost dropped it when his foot refused to support his weight.  
  
“paps, you okay?” Sans’s soul dropped into his slippers.  
  
Papyrus limped doggedly on to the table and sat down in a chair.  
  
“OH. UM. I must have hurt it while training with Undyne. And then forgot!”  
  
“papyrus. undyne has only been training you to make spaghetti.”  
  
“YES. But it is quite vigorous training nonetheless!”  
  
Apparently content with this explanation, Papyrus dug into the oatmeal. Sans frowned, sure he was missing a piece of information that would transform this mysterious puzzle into a clear and alarming picture.  
  
He went over to the sofa and turned on the TV to let Mettaton pass the time until he had to taste test his brother’s culinary efforts. Even though Mettaton’s shows never really felt fresh anymore.  
  
Papyrus brought him his spaghetti in front of the TV, the limp barely noticeable now. Perhaps he was so impressed that Sans was awake at all that he forewent nagging him to eat at the table. He would have to try not to make a mess.  
  
Sans twirled the fork, picking up a swath of noodles, sauce, and tiny slices of hollow bone.  
  
Wait, what? No, that was … okra? Some little vegetable. Definitely not bone. Why had he thought that?  
  
He wasn’t going to let some weird intrusive thought make him insult his brother’s cooking. He forged boldly ahead, stuffing the forkful into his mouth and slurping up the slimy blue organ, careful not to spatter magic-blood on the sofa or let it catch on the sharp—wait, what?  
  
“Sans? Is it not good?”  
  
“huh? oh. no, it’s great, paps.” Sans didn’t move to take another bite.  
  
He knew about timelines and resets. He had an inkling that he’d triggered some scraps of memory from another timeline. What under the stars had happened in that timeline, though?

**Author's Note:**

> And that's why Science Sans had green magic.
> 
> Next time Sans sees Red he blasts him into ashes and then can't explain why he did that. Edge is not pleased.


End file.
